Perhaps,
you will not understand
what it's like to give
a valedictory speech,
or what it's like to get
a college degree,

but I will never be,
whatever I might be
if you weren't there for me.

My mind runs empty
for the words that I
wish to whisper
into you unhearing ears

Yet, I do not need
words to give you
comfort in your nights
when your enemy is your mind

I only need to hold you
with the tremble of
my calloused fingertips

I haven’t written you
poems in days,
and I feel as if
my bones are going
to break, with
all the soul I carry
within my chest

I miss you.

harder than you
would’ve thought

even when I shouldn’t
even when I haven’t gone
even when I have kept
you within the confines
of this prison cell,
held back by
a bony cage of ribs

I miss you.

and I do not know what to do
with my hands, because
you are the only thing
they want

is you, is you, is you
– it has always been

my life has always been defined
by your person, and it
has been built around you

missing you comes like
the cold gust of a November wind

…like the way coffee smells at three
in the morning, warm and comforting
but never, never enough
and missing you is like the way
my voice breaks when I tell you
i love all of you to
unhearing, useless ears

I have tried to love you,
while you loved
another.

I’ve tried making
peace, with the fact
that I will always,
always fall second
in your heart.

We are not a cliche.
We are a vicious cycle.

We fall in a dance,
that we never speak of.

I wait for you at night.
You stumble in my arms,
drunk and desperate.

We sleep through
hurried whispers in
the darkness,
fleeting fingertips
shaking terribly over
white-hot heat of skin
touching against skin, slow-dancing
with silence in lieu of music,
the sharp angles of your
hipbones and the dip
where your collarbone
meets your sternum

– all these and more,
on my lips and the way
you tear through my flesh

– only to run out
my bed when the morning
comes, to run in his arms

And he’ll meet you at the door
smelling of fresh showers
and mint toothpaste,
and summery aftershave.

He’ll ask you where you’ve been
and you’ll conjure a lie or two
about how you’ve spent the night
and the day before with your sister
or how you’ve spent the night
on your friend’s couch…

…but I am not your friend,
and you certainly didn’t spend
the night on my couch.

And in the afternoon,
I’ll see you with him, his hands
on the small of your back,
exactly just as where my
hands had been, just hours ago.

The sun sets, the night falls
and I’ll wait for you
to run to me again.

And you always do.

We’re not a cliche
We’re poison meant to ****
each other, and we’re not
supposed to mesh at all.
We’re an incurable sickness
that we both know we cannot
live without.

We’re lies and lies and lies.
Topped off with lies again and again.

We are not
empty wineglasses
left on the floor
to pick up dust or
to shatter to pieces, but we are
more of an unfinished novel
dog-eared and thrown
a thousand times across the floor
both in frustration and in anger.

We both keep
picking it up and re-reading
over and over again
even though we already know
how
   this
      story
           ends.

And **** if it isn’t my favorite.

The attic still reeks
of your sandalwood scent
and the broken floors
still groan with
your name between their
creases and their grit.

The windows still
cradle your shadows
and the walls still
whisper of your name
in the silence
of the moon’s silver light

House, is not a home.
And what are four walls, anyway?

They are as good,
as the hearts that live
inside of them.

And what if…what if,
your home that keeps your heart warm
becomes some stranger’s arms?

I once knew a girl,
who held fire in her hands
and wore her heart
upon her cheek

she closes her eyes
and sees the world in light
she dances to the silence
and there’s a glimmer in her smile

I once held her,
but she’s burning,
burning and burning
like she swallowed
the stars and the sun
and kept them
inside her chest

I once knew a girl,
who held fire in her hands
she burned my heart
and burned my hands
she cast magic spells
and burned all my lands

you’re getting married
in less than twenty-four hours

yet, here you are --
saying hello on my doorstep,
rocking on the ***** of your heels,
nervously clutching your floral skirt
like the way you did
when you're still on
first dates and first bases
sipping ***** instead
of swallowing the shots down

you talk about the towns
that you had driven through
the past two hours --
just so you could see me

but I don't
think,

that you're here
just to say hello
and talk about
the towns you've
driven by

we sit, on the flagstone
mezzanine, idle talks
flowing through pretentious lips
but always dancing, always skirting
past the things we both
know we want to talk about

but we never mention
them out loud

we eat the gravel and grit
and ashes of burnt-out loves
fill our mouths

we are both dying
to say,
what we are both dying
to hear.

it's already late,
later than I would have
allowed myself to
let you stay,

but we open a few more
bottles of beer
you still swirl your
drink in your cup,
let it slosh before you sip
on it -- you still
like to pretend it's *****
when it's just cheap beer

when the moon finally shines
over the ridge of Sierra del Fuego,
an orange coin someone
had hung in the midst
of a blackberry sky,
it beckons you to leave
for home, and you heed
the call

I wish that you hadn't,
because as much as much
as I want you for myself I,
also wish for you to be happy,
and I want you to be free
of me, of what I am -- a liability,
a constant reminder
that you must be responsible
for whatever consequence we
might bring to each other

so I remain silent,

let myself choke on the words
I would have wanted
you to hear, and I
wath you as you
drive away in a Ford,
dust exploding in a
flurry of clouds behind your tires
as it tears through the
gravel pathway that traverses
in front of my house
for the northern highway
where the thorn bush
with the pink flowers
had managed
to bloom, despite the harshness
of the soil that reside there

oh, I watch as the sun
as it travels back to the east
where it belongs!

without words, without
that grandiose score
that cues the end of the world
and the start of the apocalypse,
the world still turns and turns,
heedless of a petty heart breaking

Silence.

and the sound is loudest
when it is not heard.

To the sea I must go,
To the deep, deep blue
To the sea I must go

And when I get There,
Somewhere, somewhere
When I get There

I will return to the clouds
And dance in your storms
Soak your skin and your bones

Your little daughter
Will fall asleep
To my lullabies

Your son will play
Underneath my downpour
Pitter-patter little feet

So I must go
To the sea, to the sea
I must go sometime very soon

Where the mermaids
Wait for me.

This is how I fell in love with you:

summer days
warm nights
your eyes, your smile
surprise, surprise

your trembling hands,
echoes of your laughter
carried away by the sea breeze
sunsets, a deck of cards

This is how my heart broke:

You.

Nothing but the thoughts of you
Make me feel alive.

And nothing but the thoughts of you
Eat away my life.

He knows just how to play you
For a fool
He will paint himself
As that broken boy
With the broken smile
And the broken heart
And he will let you find
His pieces, one by one.

This is how the story goes:
You fall for the lost boy
So hard, so hard
That you loose yourself in him.

But always remember
Broken things hurt, too.

Deep.

You were born
To break me.
While I only tried
To love you.

she broke her heart
just to keep your heart whole
as she cradled it lovingly
inside her bleeding arms

she wrote you poems
and you never knew
because you wanted someone else
to write them for you

you have no idea
you will never know
that she tried to forget
ever song she made for you

and she burned all her poems
because they were all about you
her poetry turns to ashes
her ashes turn to tears

and you’ll never know,
you will never know

i do not want you
to uncover all my bones
and carry them
inside your pockets
for my bones are rotten
and your hands are innocent
they were not meant
to hold them

i do not want you
to carry my bones
inside your pockets
and burden yourself with them
for my bones are ugly
my skeleton is unsightly
you already have
bones of your own
my dear, do not try
to carry mine

How woozy were my eyes
To see past your dreamy smile
And into your fickle mind

Roses are red, violets are blue
My heart's in pieces because of you

Roses are wilting, violets are drooping
I'm on a hospital bed, slowly dying

Roses are red, violets are blue
Why I killed myself, you'll never know.

You were so beautiful,
So beautiful, that you broke
My fragile heart in two.

And here's two halves of me
Loving all the versions of you.

I will break my skull
Let every single drop
Of my rushing blood
Trickle down my arm
Past my fingertips
And into eternal scrawls
Of ink on paper.

Down, down and down he goes
To rich navy troughs and cerulean hues
His winged arms flailing to the skies
Wishing for his father's watchful eyes

The sobs of Daedalus are silenced by the sea,
And his tears are drowned in the waves
Icarus has fallen! Icarus has fallen to his death!
Oh how the seagulls squawked with mirth!

Rip my heart out
And you will see
Your name inked
On my vena cavae.

barely living things
wrapped in bandages
and doused in antiseptics
kept alive by food tubes
and oxygen pumped through heaving lungs

almost cadavers, broken dreams
shattered hopes and in-betweens
unanswered phone calls to heaven
and a hundred not yets

I take one step forward
He takes three steps back
We've been dancing
Dancing just like that
And tomorrow, we'll do this again
Until we both lose and no one wins
But I want your fury and your pain
I enjoy loving him.

I want to scrape off my skin
Just to tear the words
That your tongue had left for me.

I want to scrape my skin
Just to forget the parts of my body
Where your lips had once lingered.

Paint my body in scarlet
And color me with purple bruise
I want to drown in you.

It’s one in the morning.

There is no other bus in the terminal than this one.
It is filled with dozing passengers,
Half-awake bodies smelling of cheap perfume,
Watered alcohol, lime and cigarette.
You smell like mint and a hint of sugary Sprite.
You sit on the last row of the bus,
Just next to the window.
White headphones thread their way
Through your tumbleweed hair.

I wonder what are the songs
You spend your time listening to.

I look at your reflection on the glass.
I steal glances at your lovely face.
As you lean on the smooth glass window
Let the world pass you by for a while.

I wonder if you noticed me staring.
I wonder if for a fleeting moment you tried.

Perhaps you don’t.
But I certainly do.

I notice the lonesome wrinkle under your eyes.
I notice the way your lips quirk into a smile.
I notice the rumble of your laughter
I notice how bad you want to believe in ever afters.
I notice how in the ghostly streetlight, your irises change a slight hue.
I notice that your wearing a navy mascara and cerulean eyeshadow.

It’s almost my stop.
But I don’t try to stand up.

I turn to you, and you looked so vulnerable.
You’re curled up in your side, fast asleep.
And I never wanted any other thing
Than hold you in my arms for a heartbeat.
You look so vulnerable – and not pretty.
Not pretty. Beautiful.

You had your eyes closed.
You can’t see me.
But I see you.

I want to flip the hourglass.
I want to keep you right there, on the back row of the dingy bus.
I want to stop the sand from pouring down.
I want to stop the bus, from driving into town.
I want to stop the world.
I want to stop the universe.

Because mine just did.

I am at a loss
Trying so hard
To find the right words to say
For you,
To open the door
And let me in,
Once again.

(For you to break my heart once more.)

I took down
all my walls
just so you
can reach me.

But you constantly
built the tall fences
all around you
to keep me away.

Your eyes are a cerulean hue
Filled with fifty shades of blue
And I fell in love with each one of them
All the fifty shades of you.